As we grow up, we all get asked the question "what do you want to be when you grow up?" As kids, we often answer: teacher, doctor, firefighter, princess, ballerina, police officer, superhero etc, etc. But then once we hit high school, we realize that this shit is for real and we really need to figure out what we want to be. Some of us have had it figured out since we were five. A firefighter. A doctor. A teacher. Those are accepted jobs, they're traditional. People smile and nod and say "good for you!" when you tell them this is what you want to be. Others have to think long and hard and still don't know what they want to be. And some have picked the most out of the ordinary career. Like say, writing. It's not a sure shot. It never is. Your writing can be crap one day and gold the next. If you're a journalist, you live off story to story, making sure that you get that bit of news first so that you can get paid for writing about it. If you're a novelist, you're living off chapter to chapter with another job in between. It's not easy, and before you get that "big break" it doesn't pay much at all. You can get all the education in the world, but if your writing's crap, no one's gonna pay you for it. So why do we do it? Because we love it.
I've shared my NaNoWriMo experience here before. It's truly one of the best things that I've done in my life because it made me realize how much I really do love writing and it helped me improve so much. So it's obvious that I'm gonna do it again next November. But since then, I've been itching to write. Sure, I do creative writing, I blog here and there, I have my journal but the writer in my wants something more. And I found it. It's called Camp NaNoWriMo. It's the same thing except in April. So I obviously jumped at the chance and registered before I even realized that I had absolutely NOTHING to write 50 000 words about! I stared at my profile, wondering what on earth I had gotten myself into. I couldn't back out now, I'd never forgive myself. So I had to plunge forward and pray that I came up with an idea within the next 25 days or so.
Today I experienced something that I've never felt before. I got an idea. I good, solid idea that I could use for my new novel. I ran it over in my mind a few times, working out the kinks and smoothing out the wrinkles of my new brain wave. It was incredible because every time I went over it, I'd think of something new to add to the plot and it just became more and more interesting. The characters were coming to life in my head; names, appearances and personalities came flying at me. Backstory and social connections flooded my mind. The plot was growing from this little thought into something that I could really use, something that got me excited about writing. The best way to describe what I was feeling at this moment would be if I quoted this amazing man named Alan Alda. He's not only an amazing actor, but an incredible writer. He closed one of his articles with: "...and every writer must feel something like this -- a thrill, a rush of joy, a desire to dance around the room." (the rest of the article can be found at: http://www.alanalda.com/sledgehammer.htm) This is what I felt today. An unmistakable passion for something. Unbelievable pride in myself that I had just thought of this out of nowhere. This joy, that I finally had somewhere to go with this novel. I now had something to write 50 000 words about, something that I didn't have an hour ago.
I want to feel this thrill, this rush of joy, this desire to dance around the room for the rest of my life. I know now, more than anything that my purpose is to write. I'm meant to spend the rest of my life writing. I know that now without a doubt. There's nothing that would ever be able to replace the feeling I get when I write. Whether I write about history, or the weather, real or fiction, short or long, french or english, the thrill, the passion is always there. It's something that I'm good at. Maybe one of the only things that I'm good at. So it's not something that I'm about to give up. No matter how hard it is.
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